Feeling down

I am totally in need of love today.

And chocolate.

Anything that makes me feel happy and comforted, really.

Had a horrid day yesterday. My emotions ranged from content to upset, to angry, then bothered, uncertain, sad, agitated and even meh.

Sometimes I just feel like I can't do right. I try. I really do. But something I do makes one person unhappy. Another person takes what I'm saying the wrong way. Things are disorganized, and when I try to help organize, I'm told not to get "all worked up".

It's just sucky.

Recently, there have been people who tell me I'm looking "big" for how far along I am in my pregnancy. News to me. I thought I was normal. Someone told me they should lend me their fat jeans, because the thighs are bigger, just like mine are. Someone smirked at me while telling me to calm down. My husband agreed with me when I said maybe I needed to be more positive. (Sometimes you just want them to say the "right" thing, you know?)

Anyway - woe is me, blah, blah, blah.

I know I really shouldn't be complaining. But it just seems that every once in a while, I can't help but be human and let the little things all pile up and get me down.

Which is why I need chocolate today. Mass quantities of it, please.

And yes, I know I'm an emotional eater. But just for today? It's okay.

Me stuff

Has anybody else noticed how BAD I've been with the posting lately? Sorry 'bout that.

So. Things that are new with me: My belly is getting very big, I have to take the glucose test soon (to see if I'll likely get Gestational Diabetes while pregnant), Andrew's birthday is on Monday, we're going to our old University town this weekend to hit up our favourite wings and beer pub to celebrate Andrew turning another year older, we're still working on getting the nursery done-ish in time for my baby shower, I'm finding myself more and more tired lately, and... we've already accumulated two pink outfits from the grandparents since telling them that we're having a girl.

Phew.

Oh. And I have an appointment at a spa for a facial this Saturday. Which I've been looking forward to for 3 long weeks now. Waiting for this facial has been almost as excruciating as waiting to find out if we're having a boy or a girl. (Okay, not quite. But still. I wants me this facial!)

That's it. That's all. Or, that's all I can think of right now.

Enough about me. How are you lovely folks doing?

Baby showed us the goods

After a brief hiatus, I have some news for all my lovely blog followers.

IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hubster and I found out yesterday morning that we're having a wee baby girl.

I could not be more excited. (And neither could my Mom, who promptly came over to see me with a pink fuzzy baby hat as a gift).

It's getting so much more REAL every day.

Welcome to the family, little girl.

It's fall. And Friday. Double woo.

Andrew's parents called him to congratulate him on being "so smooth" after reading my last blog. I guess they didn't see the part where I got him a gift, too. The sun only shines out of his arse, I see!! I wonder if this is how I'll be with my kids?

Anyway, moving on!

Today's a crap-tastic day. Rainy and windy and chilly... oh my! However, I walked to the train station this morning and couldn't help but feel really content. I was, after all, walking through a pretty pathway covered with fall leaves.

Even with a bit of rain, how can you NOT appreciate the reds and yellows and golds swishing around your feet and decorating the air around you? How, I ask you!?

So... yeah. That's about it with me. Excited it's Friday. Ready for the weekend to start. Looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning.

I lead an exciting life, y'all.

Wish I had more to blather on about. Hope this holds you over on the "All Things Hezzie" front until Monday.

Enjoy the weekend!

Happy anniversary, Hun

Today marks 3 years of marriage between the hubster and I.

Andrew and I stood in front of all of our friends and family 3 years ago and made a public declaration of our love for each other.

Then - we drank, ate and partied the night away.

Since then, we've put a lot of work into our house, we've gone on some amazing vacations, we've dined out at fancy restaurants and spent a lot of time with our friends and family. In short, we've been living a fabulously wonderful married life.

3 years goes fast when you're having fun.

This morning, Andrew dropped me off at the train station before work. We gave a quick smooch and said we were looking forward to seeing each other tonight for dinner. We decided we wouldn't do gifts or cards, as that's not really our thing. We just want to do what we love - dine out at a nice restaurant on some delicious food and spend time together.

So, I sat on the train, grabbed my book from my purse and settled in for the commute, just like any other day.

Only this time, when I opened up my book to where I last left off reading, I found a blank envelope with the word "Hun" written on the front in Andrew's unmistakable writing.

I started smiling before I even opened the card.

We've lived 3 years of it, but those 3 words from Andrew, in his little chicken scratch writing on a simple, cute card... they just never cease to make me unbelievably happy.

I'm still smiling now.

Reader Discretion Advised

Attention: If you don't want to know something weird that's happening with my boobs, do NOT, I repeat, do NOT continue reading. (I wrote that mainly for my brother. Hope you appreciate it, Chris!)

So. Something's up with my jubblies.

I've heard all about the weird and wonderful things that happen to your body during pregnancy. You change. You adapt. Your body does some crazy things, all in the name of growing a human being. I understand it and accept it all for the most part as it happens to me.

However - there is nothing that can prepare you for the first time that stuff leaks out of your boobs. I now know this from first-hand experience.

The other day, I woke up from a nap with a big wet spot on my shirt - right over the boob area. I thought "Hmm... that's odd. A wet spot right there. In a perfect circle." I had a feeling it wasn't drool.

So I decided to experiment a little to find out what was up with my gazoongas (as Andrew started calling them ever since they grew to gargantuan proportions during pregnancy).

**THIS IS WHERE YOU SHOULD REALLY STOP READING, CHRIS.**

Alright. I admit it. I wanted to know what was up. I wanted to know if it was what I thought it was. So... I gave my boob a little squeeze.

And stuff came out. Clear liquid stuff.

GAH!!!! Can I just tell you how WEIRD it is to see stuff come out of your boob when you squeeze it for the first time?? It's WEIRD. Very, very weird.

As normal and as natural as all this is supposed to be, I found it a little freakish that my boobs were already leaking. I'm only 22 weeks along! I'm not ready for leakage yet!

I told a few people about it, cause I just couldn't get over the weirdness of it all.

"My - you're going to have quite the milky, wh-white breasts" a friend said in her best southern accent (she was quoting a line from A League of Their Own that always makes us giggle).

"Imagine what it'll be like when you're actually breastfeeding!" Andrew said to me in amazement, "You'll be able to squirt clear across the room!"

So, I guess my booby leakage isn't as quite freaky as I thought.

Most people seem to find the whole thing udderly amusing.

(Oh yes, I went there.)

Productive weekends

Another weekend, come and gone.

Ah, Mondays.

Funny thing is, I don't really dislike Mondays. Especially after weekends that feel particularly restful. Like the one that just passed.

Friday evening, hubster and I decided not to do anything productive with the baby room or the house. We made the executive decision to not exercise or go buy things on our list of items we need. Instead, we went for dinner and a movie. Just the two of us. It was the perfect date night.

On Saturday, I decided to be all self-righteous and get a lot of stuff done. So, I got up early and went for a half hour jog/walk with my Mom, then came home and dug up all the weeds in our front garden, then emptied the dishwasher, did the laundry, made a meal plan for the week and a grocery list - and still managed to take a two hour nap.

Sweet.

Sunday, I went for another jog/walk (this time, about 25 minutes). Then went to my prenatal yoga class, did some more laundry, baked a batch of cookies and managed to fit in a half hour nap.

Sweet. Again.

It was the perfect balance of nesting (baking cookies and weeding the garden... definitely not on my list of typical weekend activities) and relaxation.

Now I'm ready for the next week. (Only 15 weeks left until I'm done work for a year, by the way.)

(Not that I'm really counting.)

(Just sayin'.)

Things

Things that are new with me:

• I bought a pair of black leather boots yesterday. Hurrah! They have a tiny heel and are scrunchy and cute and fashionable. I feel fabulous wearing them.
• I was at work from 8:30am until 9:30pm yesterday, so I'm a little bit tired today. But still happy about my boots. (Also - had free sushi for dinner. Double hurrah!)
• Next week is my wedding anniversary. Hubster and I are going to celebrate by dining out at a fancy Japanese restaurant in Toronto. Ooh-la-la. We're so chic.
• I've got a Starbucks-and-Spa date with my girlfriend Sarah set up for the end of the month. I can NOT wait. We're going to gab about girly things over lattes, then go get facials. Again with the ooh-la-la, we're so chic.

That is all.

On parents

Sometimes I can't sleep at night. And my mind starts going into overdrive.

I just keep thinking about stuff.

Like, how will I be as a Mama? What's it going to be like? I know my life is going to be different... but how? Will I love it? Will my baby love me unconditionally?

And then I start thinking about my parents. My Mom did what I'm doing now. She carried me for 9 months. She dealt with the heartburn and the exhaustion and the morning sickness. For me. She experienced all the things I'm experiencing now. Like, my first kick inside her tummy. She probably felt the same amazement and wonder that I feel now. She did all this. Just for me.

It completely blows my mind.

I'm starting to see my parents in a different way already. Now that I'm experiencing these things and I know my Mom did it, too (and gladly) for my brother and I, I find that I'm continually amazed by my parents.

My Mom and Dad were such good parents. I thought I really appreciated them before this. But this... this is new.

We went through some rough times as a family. But I didn't really know about any of it at the time. I didn't know until much, much later in life when I was an adult. And that's because my parents gave me the care-free kid's life that all children want and need. They put me and every little need I had before themselves.

And why? Why did they do that?

I guess I didn't really understand or fully appreciate everything they did for me or why they did it until I felt my baby for the first time. When I started to know this new, incredible love.

My love for my parents has always been incredible. But now? I think now it's going to be taken to a whole new level.

Man, I'm lucky.

Cute, little baby items

Omg.

OMG!

I need to get stuff done, guys. Like - actually get stuff done.

I don't know if it's the whole nesting phenomenon taking place, or the realization that November-December is going to be very busy with holidays and family and so on and so forth... but I'm now 5 months along and we totally have to start planning and getting stuff done. Wee baby deserves it.

Thankfully, hubster picked up on my not-so-subtle freak out last Friday and went into super-hubby mode this weekend. Which is why we got a LOT of stuff done.

Things we did this weekend:

• Primed and repainted the nursery after deciding we didn't like the colour of paint we originally chose (and painted the walls with.) (PS: Thank you for helping in laws!!)


• Bought, painted, cut and installed all new base boards and trim around the window and doors in the nursery


• Assembled the change table (We have a cute change table! For baby things! Cute, little baby items! Hurrah!)


• PS: When I say "we", I have to give credit mostly to Andrew. He was a working machine this weekend! It was awesome. And? He looked really sexy in his rugged work clothes. Mmmm...

Things we still need to do:

• Find and purchase a rocking chair/glider, throw rug and blinds for the nursery


• Put together the crib


• Have a mural painted on the nursery wall


• Pre-register at the hospital where we'll be having the baby (Apparently you have to do this like, NOW! I thought I could do it in January or something. Not so.)


• Register at Babies R Us (now that the shower has been moved up to November - have to get on this. Which? Am very excited about. Yay baby stuff!! Cute, little baby items!!)

I'm sure there's more stuff. But this is my "DO NOW" list. Hence, the mini-freak out/breakdown last week. What can I say? I'm a planner.

I may be slightly neurotic... but at least I'm cute.

And so is the hubster.

On the next episode of Cribs

I'm finally starting to feel awake and alert enough to write a blog for today. You know... after my morning-long haze, but before the post-pizza-lunch-sleepies kick in. Better take advantage.

So last night hubster and I went with my Mom and his Mom to go check out baby furniture. I have to say - it was a bit overwhelming at first.

I think that's because we went to Sears - Land of Disorganization. Have you been there? It kind of took the fun out of the shopping experience for me. Things were jumbled up everywhere. There were only a few cribs on display. The one glider/rocking chair they had was filthy. Not exactly exciting for our first shopping expedition.

But then! Then we went to Babies R Us. That place KNOWS how to market to new Moms (and grandmas) let me tell you.

Everything was in order and in just the right place. All the cribs were gleaming and decorated beautifully with blankets and bumpers in soft greens and yellows and pinks and blues. The gliders were plush and soft and seemed to envelop you as soon as you sat in them.

It was baby shopping heaven.

So, Andrew took control (I couldn't decide, there were too many pretty things to look at!!) and picked out our crib and change table. He was all set to get our baby some furniture. We were there. And we were NOT going to leave empty handed.

***********
Editor's Note: I've been writing this blog all day and I waited too long to finish my thoughts. I've now hit the post-pizza-lunch-sleepies. So this post is ending in a less-than-well-written-way. My apologies! Enjoy your long weekend, Canucks!

Follow up...

... to yesterday's whiny post:

Last night I slept well. Hurrah! Hubby's nose didn't whistle (yay!)... but he did snore. But that's okay, because he only had to be told to turn over once. Hurrah again! And he gave me a neck massage earlier in the evening for my aches and pains. Woo!

Also, I went to my Learn to Run Running Room clinic and had a wonderful time. I got out in the fresh air and socialized with some very nice people. I also had a nice, 25 minute jog/walk. And then came home feeling fantastic.

So all is well in the world of Hez.

So. Very. Tired.

Oh my goodness folks, but I am tired.

Last night I woke up at 3am. Then proceeded to toss and turn over and over again. Then listened to my husband's nose for awhile. Then had to get up and take a Tylenol for the crazy ache in my neck/shoulder region. Then stared at the clock. Then felt sorry for myself.

I think I finally fell back asleep around 5am. Only to have my alarm clock go off an hour later.

So, needless to say, I'm pretty zombie-like this morning.

I refuse to update Facebook like I normally would after a night of restlessness... simply because I just don't feel like listening to people tell me to "get used to it" or "it'll only get worse". I know that it's just Moms passing on their wisdom to me in nothing but a kindly, friendly, camaraderie-type way.

But, today, I just want to feel slightly sorry for myself.

Then, I'll go home and take a nap.

Yoga for fatties?

I think there's no denying that I'm loving pregnancy.

I feel good. I've been told I'm "glowing". My belly is getting rounder, and I love rubbing it every now and again.

But, for some reason, I still can't get the whole weight issue out of the back of my head.

I remember when my friend Kim was pregnant and she told me it was hard seeing the number on the scale going up and up. I was baffled by her comment.

As a non-pregnant person, I just couldn't imagine how she could even think that way. How could the number NOT go up? How could you worry about it when you're pregnant? That was just silly.

Then I got pregnant. And the number on the scale kept going up and up.

And then I went to a prenatal yoga class and started freaking out that the girls in the row ahead of me who were 26 weeks pregnant didn't even look pregnant AT ALL from behind. When I looked at myself in those giant yoga mirrors, I didn't really like the chubby back, arms and thighs staring back at me.

The truth is, I'm not letting it take over my life, by any stretch of the imagination. I don't obsess. I'm happy. But, at the same time, it's hard to just turn off this mentality that thin is perfect and right and lovely. Even when pregnant... all you should do is gain a bump. The rest of the weight gain? Well, that's just unsightly.

Anyway. Even though I've gained more than the books say I should have by now (one email actually said 'The weight gain has just barely begun'... at 20 weeks!! Does gaining 14.5 lbs. count as 'barely beginning'??) - and even though I'm about to bypass my husband in total poundage... I'm trying to be okay with it.

After all, this is the only time in my life where I can indulge when I feel like it and not really fret over those extra calories.

I should be enjoying it! Taking it all in! Loving it!

And if somebody would just tell those women in my yoga class...

I could.

The waiting game

So. I went for my 20 week ultrasound this morning. Of course, I was SURE that I was going to find out if my wee one was a boy or girl. And, of course, I went to a lab in my area where the technicians are not allowed to tell you the results.

 

Which means, I have to wait until my next midwife appointment to find out the sex.

 

That's not happening for 3 more weeks.

 

*Insert frustrated, exasperated noise here*.

 

"Oh well, three more weeks isn't too bad. One thing that parenting teaches all of us is patience!" a good friend of mine said to me.

 

Which? Yes… she definitely has a very valid point. But at the same time, I REALLY want to know. Like… now. (I have trouble with delaying gratification, as you can probably plainly see).

 

I've realized… this pregnancy thing. It's interesting. It's a very long process of waiting. And hoping everything's okay. And more waiting. And poking your belly every now and again to see if you can get your baby to move. And then waiting for your next appointment so you can hear the heartbeat.

 

If you're feeling good (like I am right now) and aren't too huge (like me right now), there's not a lot going on to remind you that you're pregnant. So you grasp onto anything and everything to help bond with your baby until that end moment.

 

That end moment.

 

I have a really great feeling that in the end, all this waiting is so worth it.

 

Oh man, how it'll be worth it.

One of the things that's pretty much tops on my list of Things I Love: browsing through book stores.

With a bit of downtime today, I decided to take advantage of my lunch break and head over to Indigo to see what's new in the world of books. (I was also excited to see if John Irving's latest novel was available yet. Alas, I was too eager. Not out until October 20th).

Anyway, as I was browsing through the "New and Hot Fiction" section, I saw a book I've picked up on many occasions, but have not yet bought. It sounds good. It looks good. But I just haven't gone for it. I just haven't been completely sold.

As I flipped it over to read the synopsis on the back (again), I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, is that The Glass Castle?" a friendly looking man asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
"That is one of THE best books you'll ever read."
"Really?" I smiled.
"Absolutely. The story is amazing. The characters just get you right away. So good. A must read!" he answered enthusiastically.
"Wow! Thanks very much!" I nodded at him as I glanced over the book again.

He left with his purchase, leaving me with a big grin on my face.

Because another thing I absolutely love? Are fellow book enthusiasts.

And this kindly book lover had me sold.

To run is to be

It's right around this time of year that I usually start running again. The Running Room clinics I participate in start up... the weather is unbelievably beautiful and perfect for jogging...

But this year, I won't be joining my usual 10k clinic and running between 4-10km 3 times a week. (And then my usual half marathon clinic and running between 4 and 21kms.)

Le sigh.

I remember, way before I was pregnant, I was determined to run during my entire pregnancy. "I can totally do it. And I will. I can't give up running!!" I thought.

Then I actually started running whilst pregnant and found that it just didn't feel right. I had a heavy feeling at the bottom of my stomach and I moved MUCH slower than I was used to. My body seemed to be telling me something.

So, I decided it was best to listen to my body and err on the side of caution. That's when I took up walking. (And prenatal yoga, of course.)

I'm absolutely loving the walking. I went for an hour-long walk with the hubster last night in the crisp, fall air. We brought along our mugs of decaf tea, and spent the evening talking and walking through our gorgeous neighbourhood. It was really, really nice.

But... I can't help but feel that something's missing.

I still miss running.

I miss going for a nice, long run in the cool fall air. I miss feeling my cheeks getting all cold and red, and them warming up afterwards with a hot shower and cozy pyjamas. I miss the undeniably fantastic feeling after a run. I miss feeling alert and alive. I miss talking with fellow runners about our time, how our limbs are doing, and how good it feels to be out again.

I miss being alone with my thoughts. Feeling revved up by a really good song as my legs take me further and further along my journey. Being with my Mom. Having a cup of tea at Tim's after a long run and feeling strangely proud of myself: strutting around in my running gear, knowing that everybody in Tim's must see that I. Am. A. Runner.

This year, I'll be joining either a walking clinic or a Learn to Run clinic, so I can still get some exercise with a group on a weekly basis.

It certainly won't be the same. But it'll still be good. And when baby arrives, I hope that I'll feel up to running again soon after. I hope I'll have the energy to make those impressions on the pavement again.

Because running has certainly made an impression on me.

Proud of my ability to work Tony Danza into the story

A couple of nights ago, I fell into bed, exhausted and worn out. I lay on my soft, soft bed, nestled between sheets and comforters and body pillows (oh my!) And then I looked up above me, revelling in the complete and utter satisfaction of the gloriousness that is my bed.

That's when I saw them.

A million little bugs. All over our walls and ceiling.

We had the window open that evening to get some of the fabulous fall fresh air into our room. Little did we know that those itty-bitty, yet HUGELY friggin' annoying bugs that seem to be infesting our suburbs right now were infiltrating our room.

(Thank you, Arwen the cat, for making little tiny holes in our screens with your claws).

So, I hustled out of bed yelling "EW!" as loudly as I could, in hopes that the hubster would come to the rescue. (It honestly was not much of an exaggeration when I said there were a million bugs. Really. T'was gross.)

Hubster was indisposed at the time (in the bathroom), and yelled "Get the Dustbuster!" at me.

"The Dustbuster??" I yelled back.

"Yes! The Dustbuster. Dust those little suckers."

Hubster knows about such things. He's my very own MacGyver/David Suzuki. So I don't question his somewhat strange suggestions.

So, I ran downstairs, grabbed the Dustbuster and came back into my bedroom. WITH AVENGENCE. Those stupid little bugs were not going to ruin my wonderful sleep by creeping into my open mouth (yes, I'm a mouth-breather) or getting into my hair. Oh no. They were going to die. And I was going to show them who's the boss. (Tony Danza reference! Nice.)

Anyway, I hopped up onto the bed and got into some weird kind of starfish stance with my legs apart and arms held together and above my head. (For some reason, I felt this would aid in my bug-killing).I switched on the Dustbuster... and I went to town.

Before I knew it, most of those dumb little suckers were gone. The bedroom was relatively bug-free again. I could sleep soundly.

And so.

The morale of the story? Well, dear Internet... I've discovered that when life gives you lemons...

You just gotta dustbust the crap out of them.